Nobody Does It Like You You're Perfect
by OnnaMurcielago666
Summary: Cecil knew he should be broadcasting, or checking for updates on the story of the fridges that was eating their owners, but Carlos was standing outside of the booth and obviously able to hear the sound of the weather. Or something with a similar beat, because Cecil couldn't help but worship this suggestive swinging, gyrating movement Carlos' hips had adopted.


**A/N: Carlos finally admitted that he reciprocated Cecil's feelings. X3 And now, he's gotten bolder. I mean seriously, he's dark-skinned -I always assume Spanish for some reason- and that means he's got roots in the Country of Passion. Here's some perfectbooty!/bold!Carlos for you, my lovelies! Enjoy!**

**~I do not own Welcome to Night Vale or 'Nobody Does It Like You'.~**

"_Dancing is a vertical expression of a horizontal desire"_  
_― Robert Frost_

...

Cecil knew he should be broadcasting, or checking for updates on the story of the fridges that was eating their owners (especially since **he** and his Carlos had fridges waiting for them), but he couldn't bring himself to do anything but stare.

He had begged and pleaded for weeks for Carlos to use his day away from science-y things and his experiments to watch him do his broadcast, and he had finally succeeded! Carlos was standing outside of the booth (due to an ear-bleeding message from Studio Management) and obviously able to hear the sound of the weather. Or something with a similar beat, because Cecil couldn't help but worship this suggestive swinging, gyrating movement Carlos' hips had adopted.

"_You, you, you_  
_Nobody does it like_  
_You, you, you_  
_Nobody does it like you_"

It was mesmerizing, and the music sliding through the speakers was only giving Carlos encouragement! He swung his hips left, his shapely rear cupped by his tighter-than-usual pants as it moved, and back right without pausing from making his coffee. He stirred, and swayed, and gyrated his narrow hips as Cecil watched through the tinted glass and wished he could have Carlos in the booth with him now.

But he couldn't... but he **could** take a brief break while the weather played.

Grinning giddily, Cecil slipped his headphones from around his neck, hung up the microphone, and carefully emerged from his little room and into the hallway. He could hear the weather even more clearly out there than in his booth, as well as the low timbre of Carlos singing under his breath. He watched as Carlos kept up his little dance, making not one but two coffees and working on the second the way Cecil liked his.

Cecil nearly squealed at the thought that Carlos had been making him a coffee to drink between the portions of the broadcast, but he bit his lip and contained himself by gluing his eyes back onto Carlos- well, more accurately, Carlos' butt.

It was perfect; to Cecil, Carlos was some forgotten Spanish Adonis that he'd been blessed with, and his lower half was no exception to that. Cecil wished he could just walk over casually and wrap himself around the scientist -just drown in Carlos and his caramel voice and his perfect hair- without hesitation. However, he knew Carlos might not agree with something so forward and pull back, and that would be worse than anything.

"I try to sleep but when I close my eyes,/" Carlos sang suddenly, tossing his head and tilting it back to remove his bangs from his face. "The only thing that's ever on my mind is you, you, you! And when you're gone I need you back right now/ The one thing that I could never live without is you, you, you!"

Cecil's heart pounded as the lyrics resonated in his heart and felt his face turn a dark orchid purple with embarrassment and pleasure. Carlos and the weather seemed to know the keys to his heart and Cecil didn't dislike anything but the fact that Carlos didn't know he was there. That little bit of knowledge pulled down the corners of his pleased smile, dampening his good mood lightly, and Cecil sighed, closing his eyes to rub the bridge of his nose.

"Oh dear..."

"You make it feel so right when we turn out the lights,/ And I put my hands on your body..." Cecil jumped when Carlos began singing again, closer than before, and he opened his eyes to find an astonishing sight before him. Carlos was singing, but now he was facing Cecil and the heavy swaying had calmed a little to look more natural. His eyes were burning Cecil up inside as he approached, one coffee in each hand, and a small closed-lip smile on his dark delicate-skinned, perfect face. "You make my knees go weak! You make my heart skip a beat! Nobody does it they nobody does it like you..."

"C-Carlos?!" Cecil's jaw dropped as he took the coffee speechlessly, his mind short-circuiting at the easy way Carlos moved and enjoyed his caffeine. Carlos was very prim and scientific and proper; could this languid, sensual man be the same one that had stolen Cecil's heart?

"Mm?" The scientist hummed in reply, pausing his dance to sip the lavender beverage without any of his usual concern. His hips never ceased entirely and kept drawing Cecil's eye, which was all too unfair considering how inappropriate it was to stare at his lower half while he spoke. "Yes, Cecil?"

"Do you know what you're saying?!" Cecil gurgled, looking anywhere but the scientist. "D-Dance is the city language, remember!" Carlos stopped moving, looking a little embarrassed.

"Oh... right." He looked down at his own legs and sighed under his breath. "...blasphemous traitors." Cecil narrowed his eyes at Carlos' legs, looking back now that the dark-skinned man had ceased his little shimmy, and squatted to poke at his knee.

"Bad legs. You cannot betray my Carlos." He told them seriously, drawing a small chuckle from the other man above him. "He's perfect, which means **you** must be perfect. Understand?"

"Cecil," Carlos said kindly, reaching down to help Cecil stand up again. "I was joking. I liked the song and forgot about the 'town language'... was it that bad?" He scratched his perfect hair sheepishly, giving the radio host a small smile, and Cecil jumped to reassure Carlos that his secret little dance had been very, **very** good.

"In fact, it was perfect! Very perfect!" Cecil's mind conjured up the image of Carlos dancing through the glass, his tight rear swaying back and forth and taunting Cecil's empty hands. "I saw you and your butt through my window and thought it was very nice!" Cecil stopped, hoping he'd patched over his dark blush, but realized he'd only made it worse. No Carlos would- "I mean-"

Carlos laughed gently, tugging on Cecil's tie, and tapped their foreheads together briefly.

"Good to know," He said softly, "I'll experiment with my technique later on then, to see whether or not I can change the results."

"'Results'?" Cecil repeated, his face hot and the song ending. Carlos nodded, pulling away, and sipped his coffee with a smile.

"I want to see how much darker I can make you blush." And then he returned to the couch in the surviving interns' lounge and left Cecil in the hallway speechless with blank air buzzing through the station speakers.

**~I do not own Welcome to Night Vale or 'Nobody Does It Like You'.~**


End file.
